


The plot has got some holes, but also a w-hole lot of heart

by Lalalli



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, The mature content is mostly in the form of poorly written friend fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26567065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalalli/pseuds/Lalalli
Summary: Fitz just wanted to borrow Jemma’s biology notes.  He wasn’t expecting to discover that he features heavily in Jemma’s erotic friend fiction.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 32
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title and inspiration come courtesy of feminist icon Tina Belcher.
> 
> *
> 
> Look, I WAS going to post this all at once, and I really am almost done with it and I have everything mapped out, but it’s been really slow-going, and I’m having a tough time, not just with writing, but like, in general, and very few things make me feel better than making other people laugh. So I’m hoping that posting this first part will incentivize me to keep going.

“Where is it?”

“It’s blue.”

Fitz sighs. “That doesn’t-” He puts his phone on speaker to free up both of his hands so he can use Jemma’s key to unlock the door to her dorm room. “Okay, but _where_ in your room is it?”

“It’s on my desk. I think.”

Fitz stares at the teetering piles of notebooks on her desk, some of which have toppled over and slid to the floor. “That really narrows it down.”

Jemma huffs impatiently. “I don’t know what to tell you. It’s blue, it’s somewhere in my room, there’s notes in it. I _really_ need to go Fitz, class is about to start.”

“Fine, go, I’ll figure it out.” Fitz pockets his phone and stares at the mess in Jemma’s room a while longer, his hands on his hips. Everyone thinks that just because Jemma is intimidatingly smart and dresses like she adopted her primary school’s uniform as her personal style, that she’s also super tidy. But Jemma’s living space amounts to what could generously be called “organized chaos.” Fitz knows that if Jemma were in her room, she could easily pull out the correct notebook from the middle of one of her towering stacks of papers, but as it is, Fitz has to go through everything and search while trying not to disrupt her system too much. He can identify several notebooks in various shades of blue scattered across the room, and as Fitz also has a class to get to, he collects them off her desk, under her chair, on her dresser, at the foot of her bed, even one sticking halfway out from under her mattress, and stuffs them all in his backpack, praying she won’t need any of them before he gets a chance to return them during dinner that night.

* * *

_Jemma looked with longing at Fitz’s butt._

_All around them, their classmates were paired up and getting on with their lab. Adam was touching Henry’s butt. Sally was touching Lilah’s butt. Brian was touching Jeanine’s butt._

_But Fitz didn’t seem interested in Jemma’s butt. Maybe she would have to make the first move._

_Jemma reaches over with trembling hands and softly touches Fitz’s butt with her fingertips. Fitz stills for a moment, glancing at Jemma out of the corner of his eye, but doesn’t move away. Jemma slowly rests her entire hand on his butt. It’s the perfect balance of firm and squishy and fills her hand perfectly -“_

* * *

Fitz violently slams the notebook shut, as though trapping a venomous snake inside, which might be overkill, but his body is reacting the same way it might if a snake were trying to sink his fangs into him.

“What. The hell,” he whispers to himself.

Fitz thought he knew everything about Jemma. They’ve been friends since becoming lab partners in 9th grade honors physics and they spend most of their time together. He knows that Jemma spends weekends classifying foliage for fun and takes a kickboxing class on Wednesday nights and experiments with different waffle recipes on Sunday mornings. He knows that she ships Ten and Rose and has admitted to occasionally reading fanfiction.

But he never knew - never _imagined_ \- that Jemma was interested in creative writing. And there was no doubt in his mind that the stories in this notebook were very... _creative_.

Fitz shoves the notebook back in his backpack. He can’t think about it right now. He only has 30 minutes before he has to meet Jemma in the cafeteria for dinner and he still needs to copy her biology notes. He moves on to one of the other blue notebooks, hoping it has her actual biology notes and not more stories about his backside.

When Fitz was growing up, his mum and teachers would chastise him for not thinking things through whenever he would accidentally set something on fire or cause a minor explosion. And he knows where they’re coming from, but Fitz, from his perspective, thinks that if anything, his problem is that he _overthinks_ things.

Case in point - during dinner, Jenna asks for her notebook back, and Fitz, in the 2.7 seconds it takes for him to unzip his backpack, thinks to himself that if she sees that notebook, she’s going to think he _read_ the notebook, which yes, technically, that did happen, but what if she thinks he took it _on purpose_ so that he could read it more thoroughly and what if she thinks he got sick as a ploy to miss class so he would have an excuse to ask to borrow her notes and have an opportunity to go through her things and read her erotic friend fiction and if he gives the notebook back to her, she’s going to know that he saw it and know that he read it and obviously the only solution is to hold onto it until he has an opportunity to sneak it back into her room so that she won’t realize that he even knows it exists.

So Fitz returns five out of six blue notebooks, most of which, according to Jemma, weren’t even blue (“ugh, Fitz, I said it was a _blue_ notebook and this is _clearly_ aquamarine!”), and spent the rest of dinner on edge because all he can think about is the notebook in his backpack, a glaring reminder of why Fitz is not a trustworthy friend.

Though now that Fitz thinks about it, he’s not the one who was writing explicit stories about his best friend and their high school classmates, so who’s _really_ the untrustworthy one? 

Fitz had spent so much of today panicking about Jemma finding out he had the notebook that he hadn’t stopped to question _why_ Jemma had a notebook full of stories, at least one of which heavily features his butt. But (heh) now, lying in bed at 2 am and absolutely failing to fall asleep? He had nothing but time to imagine the possibility that Jemma might have spent considerable time thinking about his body.

Because, yes, Fitz has, on occasion, had impure thoughts about his best friend. But that’s different. Because Jemma is, well, beautiful. And Fitz is...Fitz. He’s scrawny and pasty and has resting bitch face.

So the fact that he randomly opened to a story that just so happened to be about him...it’s probably a coincidence. He probably opened it to the only story about him. He bets that if he flips through to the other stories, it’ll probably feature other guys. Other more muscular, more attractive, more charming guys. 

And just like that...he has to know. He knows he’s not going to get any sleep until he sees the other pages of her notebook.

* * *

_Jemma didn’t release her grip on the microscope. “This might be difficult for you to believe, but I am capable of doing more than transcribing your notes.”_

_Fitz clenched his jaw. “I never said-”_

_“It was implied!” Jemma snapped._

_Fitz wrapped his hand around the microscope as well, his long, annoyingly attractive fingers brushing against hers. “I want a good grade.”_

_“You are such an ass! I know you think you’re the smartest person in the room, but”_

_“I’m not saying I’m the smartest, I’m saying I’m not an idiot!”_

_“So now I’m an idiot?” Jemma demanded._

_Fitz rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I’m saying, I’m talking about how_ you _think_ I’m _an idiot.”_

_“That’s ridiculous! I never said-”_

_Fitz pulled the microscope towards himself. “Let me- ”_

_Jemma tugged it back towards herself. “It’s my turn.”_

_“Let go!”_

_“Make me!”_

_Fitz surged forward so quickly that Jemma barely had time to react before his lips were on hers. His hands grabbed her face, and Jemma let go of the microscope, sliding her hands down his back until they reached his butt._

_-_

_“Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections?” Mr. Fitz asked, bewildered, apparently unable to recognize his own condescension towards her._

_Jemma searches his eyes for any hint of the love he claimed to feel towards her. “And these are the words of a gentleman?” She could not accept someone who did not respect her, no matter how nice his butt was._

* * *

Most of the stories at the beginning feature an antagonistic relationship between the two of them. If Fitz isn’t outright insulting her, he’s actively ignoring her. Some are blatant self-inserts into books or movies, but the ones that aren’t take place in their freshman physics class and feature their high school classmates. Sometimes, she makes reference to her waist-length hair, which she cut to her shoulders the summer before sophomore year. He wonders if these stories were written back then, and if so, if that’s how Freshman Jemma really thought of Freshman Fitz. He knows that it took a while to warm up to her and to stop panicking during every interaction with her, but he didn’t realize that she thought Fitz actively disliked her.

* * *

_“I don’t want to play Spin the Bottle,” Fitz complained._

_“Fitz, this is our first high school party. We want to fit in,” Jemma reminded him. Jemma knew it was somewhat of a miracle the two of them had been invited. They were nerds and had never touched anyone’s butt before._

_Fitz asked, “Since when do you care about fitting in?”_

_Fitz didn’t know that Jemma has always cared about fitting in. She just never thought it was possible before because she was too different. But for the first time ever, she has a best friend (with a cute butt) and she’s been invited to a high school party and the possibilities are endless. It’s possible that if they play Spin the Bottle, the bottle might land on Fitz and he’ll kiss her and maybe let her touch his butt._

_-_

_Jemma knew she was late. She wasn’t planning to go, but she knew Fitz would be there. She felt a little silly in her sparkly dress. The straps were thin and the fabric skimmed over her curves. She knew it made her butt look good._

_When she walked into the gym, everyone stopped and stared. She walked through the crowd of students, looking for Fitz. When he finally saw her, he did a double-take and his jaw dropped._

_“Jemma?” He asked in disbelief._

_Jemma smiled and walked up to him. She placed her hands on his shoulders before sliding them down to his perfect butt. “Dance with me.”_

* * *

Fitz remembers that dress from junior prom. That dress nearly gave him a heart attack. It did make her butt look good. It made all of her look good. 

The rest of it didn’t happen, though. Instead of Jemma making a dramatic entrance, Fitz picked her up in his mom’s Toyota Corolla. He got her a corsage that didn’t match her dress at all, and clumsily stabbed her when he tried to pin it to her dress. They spent the whole night insisting to everyone who would listen that even though they came together, they weren’t _together_ like _that_. They were still strictly platonic. Just friends. It was annoying to have to deal with that the whole night, but that didn’t stop them from attending their senior prom together as well.

The next few are graduation-themed. Fitz remembers that Jemma was anxious about them possibly going to different schools, and most of the stories featured that as the central conflict. They would get resolved by the two of them declaring that they would go to the same university, and as a side-effect, confessing their admiration of each other’s backsides.

Fitz can tell which stories she wrote after they started uni because Daisy starts showing up as a character. Daisy’s corrupting influence starts to show up as well because the stories lose interest in innocent butt-touching and start to veer into decidedly more explicit territory.

* * *

_Fitz put his hand in her underwear and touched her labia majora. He brought his hand back up and his middle finger brushed against her anterior labial commissure._

_“Please,” Jemma begged._

_His finger went further down and touched her prepuce of clitoris. “Here?” Fitz asked._

_“Lower,” Jemma said. “Touch the clitoris.”_

_Fitz went lower, but instead, he touched the labia minora. He wiggled his finger further inside. “Your vestibular glands are very active,” he observed. “They are producing a tremendous amount of secretions.”_

_“Yes,” Jemma agreed. “I am very aroused. I am ready for you to penetrate the opening of my vagina with your finger.”_

* * *

Fitz looks down at the tent in his pants. It doesn’t even matter that the story reads like two sentient anatomy textbooks getting it on, it’s still enough to get him hard. Fitz closes the notebook, stares at it. He sighs in defeat, drops it on the floor, then reaches under his bed for his half-empty (or half-full, if he’s feeling optimistic) bottle of lotion. Resistance is futile, wherever Jemma is concerned.

It’s only when Fitz is done, with a literal mess on his hands, that he realizes that he’s created a figurative one as well.


	2. Chapter 2

Fitz will be the first to admit that his friendship with Jemma got off to a rocky start - not because of the antagonism that Jemma apparently felt, but because he was so intimidated by her that he lost the ability to string words together into comprehensible sentences whenever he was in her presence. She was aggressively brilliant and alarmingly beautiful, and for some reason she seemed determined to bully him into being friends with her. But the more he got to know her, the more he got to see her cluttered room and her overdependence on caffeine and her fear of failure, the easier it was to take her off her pedestal and to interact with her as an actual person. The more he noticed the cracks in her veneer of perfection, the easier it was to let go of his fear of rejection, easier to accept that she was in his life to stay.

Funnily enough, having a front row seat to Jemma’s sexual awakening does not make it easier to interact with her. 

“ _Leopold!”_

Fitz startles, almost dropping his test tube. The use of his first name tells him that this is far from the first time Jemma has tried to get his attention. “Huh? What? Me?”

Jemma’s eyes roll behind her safety goggles. “We’re never going to finish this lab if you keep spacing out like that. Where’s your mind at today?”

Where’s his mind at? How is he supposed to concentrate on this lab when everything in front of him reminds him of the story last night in which he was moaning at Jemma to stroke his _graduated cylinder_? 

Fitz swallowed. “Sorry. Uh. What was it you needed?”

“The heat is too low. Can you turn up the Bunsen burner?”

“Uh. Yeah. Sure.” Fitz flushes, determinedly NOT thinking about the part of the story where he’s undulating into Jemma’s beaker with his stirring rod and whispering in her ear that she’s “hotter than a Bunsen burner turned all the way up.”

He really needs to concentrate before he accidentally creates an explosion...and not just in his pants. 

* * *

_“I know who you are,” Jemma says bravely. She takes another step forward so that their bodies almost touch. “You are the Dark Lord.”_

_Fitz smirks. “Clever little witch.” He shifts his robe to the side and something prods at Jemma’s thigh._

_Jemma looks down at the hard bulge in the Dark Lord’s pants. “What is that?” She whispers._

_“This?” The Dark Lord slowly lowers the zipper of his trousers. “This is Nagini.”_

_*_

_Jemma skipped out of the TARDIS, excited to explore a new planet. They had landed in the middle of a beautiful field, full of fragrant purple flowers with iridescent petals. She ran ahead of the Doctor to the top of the hill, looking to see what adventures awaited beyond the horizon, but there were only flowers, as far as the eye could see._

_“Doctor, what are we doing here?” She turned to face him, and as soon as she saw him, she was hit with a wave of lust and desire._

_The Doctor scratched the back of his head, mussing his curls. “I’m not sure. We were supposed to be headed for Plexus-14, but we must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere.” He kept talking, musing to himself about what might have gone wrong, but Jemma couldn’t focus. Every time his lips moved, Jemma wanted to suck on them._

_Jemma approached him, knowing she needed to be closer to him without knowing why._

_Fitz stopped short when Jemma planted herself right in front of him and wrapped her hands around his neck. “Jemma. Your eyes are extremely dilated. Are you feeling alright?”_

_“Fine. Great.” Jemma couldn’t stop staring at his neck. It looked very lickable. So she licked it._

_“Ack.”_ ~~_Fitz_ ~~ _The Doctor moved as if to pull away, but instead he tilted his head further to give Jemma greater access. “What are you doing?” His hands landed on her hips._

 _“I don’t know. I just got the sudden urge to_ _~~hump~~_ ~~_sex_~~ _fuck you,” Jemma said.’’_

_“That’s odd. I feel the same way. And I’m supposed to be asexual,” The Doctor said. “Wait.” He tore himself away from Jemma to grab a handful of flowers. “These flowers.” His eyes widened. “These are LuLaRoses! We’re not on Plexus-14 - We’re on Jamboree!”_

_Jemma nodded agreeably, continuing to unbutton his shirt. “Okay.”_

_“No, you don’t understand. LuLaRoses’ aphrodisiacal potency are hundreds - thousands- of times stronger than anything on your planet. Once exposed, it’s impossible to resist.”_

_Jemma bites down hard on his lower lip and reaches down to cup his_ ~~_penis_ _testicles_~~ _groin. “Okay. Then don’t resist.”_

* * *

Honestly, Fitz isn’t sure which part confuses him more - the sex flowers (because seriously, what the actual fuck?) or that Jemma wrote herself as the companion rather than the Doctor - especially since she takes every opportunity possible to assert that she’s Sherlock and Fitz is Watson. Fitz likes to think of their partnership as one between equals, he also can’t deny that Jemma likes to take charge. 

Not that there aren’t plenty of stories where Jemma takes charge.

* * *

_Jemma can smell his scent, a heady mix of fresh-cut grass and solder. Fitz is curled into himself, clutching his abdomen._

_Jemma reaches out to stroke his back. “What is it, Omega? How can I help?”_

_“It’s my heat,” Fitz whimpers. His thighs are sticky with the slick pouring out of his_ ~~_butthole_~~ _anus. “It hurts. Help me, Alpha.”_

_“Don’t worry,” Jemma assures him. She stands and shucks off her trousers, revealing her bright purple strap-on bulging from beneath her thin panties. “I will give you my knot.”_

_*_

_Fitz knows it’s a risk, going to visit the Sea Witch. But he doesn’t know who else can help. He follows the eels to her cave, his green tail undulating in the water._

_“Merman,” the Sea Witch greets him. She’s different than he expected. Younger. Pretty, in her own way._

_“Fitz,” he corrects her._

_“Fitz,” she repeats agreeably. “I assume you’ve come because you have a problem.”_

_“I do.” Fitz looks down at his flippers. “I just...I feel so empty.”_

_The Sea Witch reaches out with a purple tentacle, curling it around the back of his neck. “I can help,” she promises. “I’m going to take care of you.” Another tentacle trails down his chest, making him shiver, while a third wraps around his abdomen to draw him closer to her. “I’m going to fill you up. I’m going to find every empty space inside you and fill you up so good.”_

_*_

Fitz glances down at his pajama pants. God, this is the weirdest, dirtiest thing he’s ever read, and he can’t believe that he’s actually getting turned on. It’s possible he’s discovering kinks he never knew he had, but it’s more likely that the thought of being with Jemma, even in the most ludicrous of situations, is enough to get him hard. 

He glances at his clock and groans when he realizes his first class of the day starts in three hours. He jerks off to help himself fall asleep, then wakes up two and half hours later, giving him just enough time to drag himself to the nearest campus coffee shop to get three shots of straight espresso before class.

“You look like hell,” Jemma whispers to him when he slumps into the seat next to her. “Are you sick again?”

Fitz just grunts in response. His exhaustion makes it harder to function, but on the bright side, it does make it easier to forget that his best friend is responsible for the softest, most tender tentacle hentai he could possibly imagine. (Is he even using the word ‘hentai’ correctly? Is all tentacle porn considered ‘hentai’? Fitz makes a mental note to research this later.)

“Fitz, honestly. You need to start taking better care of yourself.” Her voice is chastising, but she’s looking at him with so much fondness that he doesn’t mind. He bites down the urge to ask her, _But didn’t you say that you were going to take care of me?_

And perhaps it’s because that notebook is taking up so much space in his brain that it’s what he immediately thinks of when he overhears Jemma telling Daisy during lunch, “I swear, I looked _everywhere_ , but it’s missing. If anyone ever found it…”

She could be talking about anything. She could be talking about a necklace or a top she borrowed from Daisy or that ovipositor toy she wrote about using on him.

“Chillax,” Daisy tells her. “I’m sure it’s in your room somewhere.”

Does Daisy know about Jemma’s stories? Does she know what she writes about? Does she know that Jemma writes about touching his butt and sex flowers and slick? Oh God, does she help Jemma _edit_ her stories?

It doesn’t matter. If there’s even the slightest chance Jemma has realized her notebook is missing, he needs to sneak it back into her room as soon as possible.

As soon as he finishes reading the rest of the stories.

*

Fitz is almost expecting the weirdness to escalate as he progresses through the notebook, but instead, it’s the opposite. Gone are the tentacles and the supernatural creatures. Instead, it’s just...them. Hanging out, studying, bickering, watching movies...all things they normally do. They’re all events Fitz remembers, except they end differently. They end with them...together.

* * *

_“I can’t believe you’re going on a date with Milton,” Fitz slurred drunkenly. “Of all people.”_

_“What’s wrong with him?” Jemma asked._

_“What_ isn’t _wrong with him?”_

_“He’s perfectly agreeable.”_

_Fitz snorts. “Agreeable is right. You just want someone who agrees with everything you say.”_

_Jemma frowns. “That’s not true.”_

_“Then why are you going out with him?”_

_Jemma threw her hands in the air. “God, Fitz. Because he asked, okay? It’s not like anyone else would go on a date with me.”_

_“I would.”_

_Jemma stared at Fitz. “What?”_

_Fitz shrugged. “I mean, I’d go on a date with you if you were interested.”_

_“You’re just saying that because you’re drunk,” Jemma accused._

_Fitz laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “God, Jemma. Do you even know how long I’ve wanted you? How long I’ve loved you?”_

_*_

_Fitz walks into the kitchen of Jemma’s childhood home, yawning as he rubs the back of his neck._

_Jemma smiles at him. Her parents had technically made up the guest room for him, but the two of them had stayed up all night talking and they both fell asleep on the couch, which was apparently not good for his neck. “Morning,” Jemma greets him. The kettle had just whistled, so he had woken up at the perfect time. “Tea?”_

_Fitz nods blearily. He stands behind her to reach for a mug at the cupboard over her shoulder at the same time Jemma turns to get the milk from the fridge and she bumps into his unexpectedly solid chest._

_Fitz looks down at her in surprise and just stands there, staring into her eyes. Maybe he doesn’t realize that he’s trapped her against the kitchen counter, or maybe he has and he likes it as much as she does._

_His hands fall to the edge of the counter on either side of her._

_“Morning,” he says to her, the corner of his mouth ticked up a bit._

_“Morning,” she repeats, rather stupidly. His face has gotten closer to hers. Is he going to…_

_Impatient, Jemma leans forward a bit and finally presses her lips against his. He kisses her back immediately, moving his hands from the counter to her back, drawing her even closer to him so that their bodies are pressed together. Jemma can feel him hardening beneath his pajama pants._

_Fitz’s lips moved down to her neck._

_“I love you,” Jemma gasps._

_Fitz raises his head to study her face. “You do?” He doesn’t sound worried about it. His face is surprised and his voice is hopeful._

_Jemma nods. “Yeah. I do.”_

_His eyes soften and he gives her that smile that he reserves only for her. He leans forward to kiss her again. “I love you too.”_

_*_

_“You didn’t have to bring me ice cream,” Fitz tells Jemma as he watches her set up the movie. “I mean, yeah, break ups suck, but it’s not like I’m that broken up about it.”_

_“Well, in that case, I’ll just eat that ice cream myself,” Jemma teases, reaching across him on his narrow dorm bed._

_Fitz turns and hugs the pint protectively. “I said that you didn’t_ have _to, not that I didn’t want it,” he scolds._

_Jemma grins at him, then turns to settle against his side as the movie starts playing on his laptop. “Well, for what it’s worth, I never liked Beth.”_

_Fitz snorts. “Yeah, I don’t think anyone missed that.”_

_“And if she broke up with you, then she’s a bigger idiot than I thought.”_

_Fitz’s smile fades. “Actually, I think I was the idiot in this situation. Her break-up speech was very enlightening.”_

_Jemma frowns at him. “There is no possible reason she could give that would justify breaking up with you.”_

_Fitz rolls his eyes. “You have to say that. You’re my best friend.”_

_Fitz always does this. Jemma doesn’t know how he can’t see how wonderful he is._

_“It’s not like I don’t have flaws,” Fitz continues._

_Jemma grabs his hand and grips it tightly. “Of course you have flaws, but that’s part of what makes you who you are. And who you are is incredible. I wouldn’t want any part of you to be different. I love you exactly the way you are.”_

_“You love me?” Fitz echoes._

_Jemma clamps her mouth shut, realizing what she just let slip. Her mind races, trying to figure out a way to salvage the situation._

_Fitz, bless him, tried to save her, the way he always does. “You mean as a best friend.” He says it with such certainty and finality, like there’s not even a question about it._

_Jemma nods. “As a best friend,” she agrees. Her hand squeezes his tighter. “But also as more.”_

_Fitz’s eyes widen. He gapes at her wordlessly._

_Then she realizes. “Oh God, of course.” She drops his hand. “You just got out of a relationship and of course you’re not ready to consider another -“_

_Fitz leans forward suddenly and cuts off her rambling words with a kiss. He pulls back, putting just enough space between them to let him look into her eyes, but no more than that. “Um, like I said. I’m not that broken up about it. About the break up, I mean. It’s not like I loved Beth.” He pauses and says deliberately. “Not the way that I love you.”_

_This time Jemma is the one to close the space between them._

* * *

There’s no contrived farcical situations or fantastical elements. Just the two of them falling in love over and over again.

The stories are full of moments he’s actually lived. He knows exactly when she wrote each story because she’s transcribed, word for word, conversations that actually happened. It's just that the conversations end with confessions of love instead of one of them looking away and abruptly changing the subject.

Fitz doesn’t understand why she’s never said anything. Surely, she has to know. Every look he’s given her, every smile, every time he’s leaned into her or placed his hand on her back, every compliment he’s given her - they’re all documented in her notebook, as narrative shorthand for evidence of his feelings. She’s noticed all of them and interpreted them correctly. 

Guilt settles in. Jemma has been vulnerable with him before, but this is completely different. This is her soul laid bare. He has to tell her he read it, but he’s not sure how to do that in a way that doesn’t end with Jemma yelling at him or shutting him out. 

And it’s not enough to let her know- he has to even it out somehow. Make sure she gets to see him as vulnerable as he’s seen her.

* * *

  
  


{Quick question. It’s kinda awkward.}

Daisy: {my favorite kind!}

{not to sound conceited, but do you think Jemma is in love with me?}

Daisy: {is water wet? Is the sun a star? Do monkeys make terrible pets?}

{um.}

Daisy: {yes, you absolute dumbass, she is in love with you. Just like everyone knows you’re in love with her.}

{Shit. Does she know?}

Daisy: {...almost everyone. I swear to God, the two of you have the emotional intelligence of Jojo Siwa’s bow collection.}

{Who’s Jojo Siwa?}

Daisy: { that’s so not the salient point here.}

{then why did you mention them? }

Daisy:{ you know, I’m just going to solve all our problems by taking a screenshot of this conversation and sending it to Jemma.}

{...that’s not a bad idea. Maybe that can be plan B.}

Daisy: {please tell me that Plan A is actually talking to her.}

{something like that. }

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I’m reading your comments and I love and appreciate them so much. I wish I could respond to each one, but real life has been crazy right now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you were right. Literally everyone knew where this was going.

_ Jemma awoke to frantic pounding at her door. When she opened it, it was Fitz, out of breath. As though he had run the whole way there. _

_ She was worried. “Fitz! What happened to you? Are you-“ _

_ Before she could finish her question, Fitz stepped into her space and kissed her, hard and fast.  _

_ “Fitz. What…” Jemma just trailed off, not even sure what to say or ask. _

_ “I’m sorry,” Fitz blurted. _

_ “You’re sorry,” Jemma repeated. _

_ “I just, I can’t do this anymore, Jemma. You’re my best friend, but you’re also more than that, and I’m tired of hiding it.” _

_ “I don’t want you to hide it,” Jemma said. She grabbed his hand. _

_ “You don’t?” Fitz asked. He was surprised. _

_ Jemma grabbed his arm and pulled him into the room with her. “I love you, Fitz. I’m tired of hiding it too,” she said. _

_ Fitz stared at her. He suspected she was joking, but she was sincere. When he realized this, he smiled really big. “I love you too,” he said. _

_ This time, it was Jemma who leaned in and kissed him. _

*

_ “Hi! I’m Jemma!” _

_ “I know,” Fitz tells her because he already knows because she’s the smartest person in the school and in the world and in the universe. She has the brightest smile and the shiniest hair and the nicest butt and he’s been staring at her from the back of the classroom from the moment he walked into science class and saw her. Except then he panics because now she probably knows how much he’s been staring at her so to throw her off-track, he says, “Because the teacher just said. When she paired us up. So that’s how I know.” _

_ Jemma’s smile becomes less smile-y. “Oh. Okay, then.” Fitz thinks that he probably said the wrong thing and is trying to figure out how to fix it when she says, “So what do you think?” _

_ Rather than admit that he didn’t hear a word of what she just said, Fitz shrugs and says, “Yeah, whatever.”  _

_ Jemma studies him for a moment, then says “Oh.” _

_ “Oh?” Fitz repeats. _

_ “I just read your mind and so now I know that even though you’re rude, you don’t really hate me - you’re just shy and awkward. And that is absolutely understandable.” She pauses and stares at him some more. “Oh. I like your butt as well. Would you like to make out and touch each other’s butts?” _

_ “I would,” Fitz replies. _

_ So they do. _

*

_ When Fitz arrived at Jemma’s room, she looked at him with that big beautiful smile of hers and Fitz felt bad that he was going to be the reason that smile turned upside down. _

_ He unzipped his backpack and took out Jemma’s notebook. Jemma looked worried and embarrassed. _

_ “I’m sorry. I accidentally took your notebook and I accidentally read it.” He handed the notebook to Jemma. _

_ Jemma hugged the notebook tightly to her chest. “Accidentally?” _

_ “The first page was an accident.” Fitz looked at her and admitted, “the rest was on purpose.” _

_ “Are you serious? How could you violate my trust like that?” Jemma yelled, very mad. _

_ Fitz felt bad but he also felt defensive. “Are you going to talk to me about feeling violated when you’re writing about stories about my-” _

_ “I never meant for anyone to see that!” Jemma interrupted. _

_ “Why not?” _

_ “Why not?” Jemma repeated, as though she can’t believe he’d ask that question. “It’s embarrassing.” _

_ “But why couldn’t you just talk to me about how you felt instead of making up all these stories? Didn’t you ever stop to consider I might feel the same way?” _

_ Fitz stepped closer and put his hands on her hips. “Didn’t you ever think I might like your butt too?” _

* * *

In the few days it takes Fitz to write the stories, a part of him is still hopeful that Jemma will somehow notice that he’s in love with her so she can make the first move. It’s a hope that has like a 6.7% chance of coming to pass, considering that Jemma has been channeling all her pining into fiction for the better part of a decade. Strangely enough, Fitz does find it strangely cathartic.

* * *

_ Jemma stares at him. “Have you always looked at me like that?” _

_ “Like what? With my eyes? Pretty sure I do that all the time,” Fitz jokes. _

_ “No. I mean, like... with your heart in your eyes.” _

_ Fitz gulps. “I mean. Yeah. I also do that all the time,” Fitz confesses. _

_ Jemma slams her textbook shut. “Do you want to get dinner with me?” _

_ Fitz looks at his watch. “It’s only 3.” _

_ “No. I mean later. Tonight. Somewhere nice. Like a date.” _

_ Fitz stares at her. “Like a date as in…similar to a date? Like two best friends platonically getting dinner at a nice restaurant?” _

_ Jemma does that wrinkly, scrunchy thing with her face that Fitz finds adorable. “Ok, not  _ like _ a date. An actual date. A romantic date.” _

_ Fitz pinches himself. Nope. It’s not a dream. “Yes. I like romantic dates. Not that I’ve ever been on one so I don’t know I like them from personal experience, but I like them as a concept. Especially with you.” _

_ Jemma smiles. “Perfect.” She stands up and puts her book in her backpack. _

_ Fitz frowns. “Where are you going?”  _

_ Jemma looks at him as though it’s super obvious. “I have to get ready for my date tonight.” _

_ Fitz looks at his watch again. “It’s only 3. I mean, I know I said it was 3 a couple minutes ago but it was actually 2:57 - I was rounding up, but now it’s actually for real 3:00. Which is still very early for dinner.” _

_ Jemma rolls her eyes. “Did you learn nothing from the Sexy Getting Ready Song from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend?” _

_ Fitz opens his mouth to tell her she doesn’t have to do all that primping stuff. He's seen her when she’s exhausted from all-nighters and when she’s hungover and when she’s sick and when she’s sweaty from her few attempts to visit the gym, and she’s beautiful no matter what. But he also knows that if she’s planning to do all that make-up and hair stuff, it’s not just to impress him. It’s because their date is something that’s special and important to her, and she wants to make sure she looks special too. So he decides to just nod and let her leave, which she does, but not before bending down to leave a chaste peck on his cheek.  _

_ Jemma texts an hour later with details of their reservations and instructions to pick her up at 6. He’s done getting ready at 5, so he decides to take a quick trip to the grocery store to get her Gerbera daisies because they’re her favorite flowers. She smiles really big when he gives them to her. _

_ She’s wearing tight black pants and a white blouse with sparkly things at her neck. He recognizes it as the outfit she wore when they went out to that swanky club for Daisy’s 21st birthday. Fitz had spent the whole night trying not to notice how good her butt looked in those pants. Maybe she had noticed him trying and failing not to ogle her. Maybe that’s why she was wearing the outfit now - because she noticed that he liked it. _

_ “You look nice,” Fitz tells her, playing it cool. _

_ “I like your shirt,” she tells him. _

_ “That’s because you picked it out for me,” he reminds her.  _

_ They go out to dinner at Il Fornaio, a nice restaurant that Jemma’s parents had taken them to when they visited for her birthday last year. Even though it’s a fancy date, Fitz is still comfortable because being with Jemma has always been the easiest thing in the world. _

_ Jemma lets him pay even though she always says that the person who does the inviting should also do the paying. They walk back to her dorm holding hands, and she invites him inside to watch a movie. They sit on the bed like they always do, but this time after Jemma starts the movie, she sits on his lap. _

_ “Jemma, what are you doing?” Fitz asks. He stares at her.  _

_ Jemma takes his hands and places them on her butt. “It’s a date,” she reminds him. “You didn’t think we were actually going to watch a movie, did you?” _

* * *

He re-reads the story. It’s banal compared to Jemma’s. Despite his best efforts, Fitz has trouble writing anything more scandalous than PG-13. It’s embarrassing. It’s not exactly like he had any practical knowledge of the kinds of intimate acts he’d very much like to engage in.

* * *

“ _ Oh Fitz!” Jemma moans as Fitz fucks her.  _

_ No. He’s not fucking her. He’s making love to her. He’s gentle like baby shampoo. He’s tender like a medium rare filet mignon. _

_ He pulls out his prick and pushes it back in. “I love you Jemma,” he tells her. “I love you so much.” _

_ * _

_ Jemma sneezes as a flower belches a cloud of pollen into her face. “What is this?”  _

_ Fitz looks down at his erection. “I don’t know, but it makes me want to have sex with you.” _

_ “Yeah, me too,” Jemma says. _

_ So they take off their clothes and bone each other right there in the sex flowers. _

* * *

And whenever possible, he rewrites the stories based on their lives from his own point of view.

* * *

_ “Well, for what it’s worth, I never liked Beth.” _

_ Fitz snorts. “Yeah, I don’t think anyone missed that.” _

_ “And if she broke up with you, then she’s a bigger idiot than I thought.” _

_ Fitz’s smile fades. “Actually, I think I was the idiot in this situation. Her break-up speech was very enlightening.” _

_ Jemma frowns at him. “There is no possible reason she could give that would justify breaking up with you.” _

_ Fitz rolls his eyes. “You have to say that. You’re my best friend.” Jemma just stares at him. “It’s not like I don’t have flaws,” Fitz continues. _

_ Jemma grabs his hand and grips it tightly. “Of course you have flaws, but that’s part of what makes you who you are. And I wouldn’t want any part of you to be different.” _

_ “In this particular case, it was less about my personal flaws and more about how she could tell I’m in love with someone else.” _

_ “Oh.” She sounded disappointed. _

_ “It’s you, Jemma.” _

_ “Oh!” Jemma smiled really big. _

_ Fitz liked seeing her smile so he said it again. “It’s you I love.” _

  
  


* * *

It’s easy to slip the notebook into Jemma’s backpack when she’s not looking. The hard part is waiting for her to let him know she found it. He barely sleeps that night, checking and rechecking his phone to make sure he didn’t miss a call or text from her.

The next day, he studies her intently, searching for any minuscule change in her demeanor, but she’s completely normal.

In hindsight, he should have done this face to face. Sure, it was nice to give her time to process this information at her own pace, but in the meantime, his blood pressure is so high he thinks he might keel over at any moment.

Especially when she shows up to lunch two days later wearing the same black pants he wrote about in his story about their first date.

Surely, she must know. She has to, if she’s wearing those pants.

Jemma pauses with her forkful of salad halfway to her mouth. “Do I have something on my face?”

Fitz blinks. “Uh, what?”

“You’re staring.”

Fitz flushes. “No. I’m just...no, you’re good. You’re...perfect.”

Jemma drops her fork onto her plate. “Are you okay?”

Fitz takes a deep breath, screwing up his courage. “I was just wondering if you read -“

“The new article in Scientific Weekly about cryptomnesia? Yes, I did, and to be honest I found it to be tediously remedial. I mean, the idea of hyperdopaminergic action in the menial temporal area of the brain has been around for at least a decade. But you know what they say - once you’ve read one article about dejavu, you’ve read them all, am I right?” She snorts at her own joke and nudges Fitz in his ribs with a bony elbow. 

Fitz laughs weakly and shoves half his sandwich in his mouth in one bite to prevent himself from further running his mouth.

It takes a week for her to bring it up.

She’s supposed to come over to study anyways, so he doesn’t think anything of it when she shows up at his room. She’s always made herself comfortable in his space, kicking off her shoes and flopping onto his bed, but this time she just hovers by the doorway, shifting from foot to foot.

“Um.” Fitz stands and stares at her. “You alright, Simmons?” He takes a tentative step towards her.

Jemma gives him a sheepish smile. “This is a bit embarrassing.” She closes the door behind her and leans back against it.

Fitz’s stomach flies to his chest as though he were on a rollercoaster that abruptly decided to change directions. “Oh.” 

“You read my stories.”

Fitz scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“I know. I read your stories too.”

“Right. Sorry if they made you uncomfortable.”

Jemma snorts. “Yours were tame compared to mine. I noticed yours had a distinct lack of tentacles. I mean, Fitz...God, I’m surprised you didn’t file a sexual harassment complaint.”

Fitz steps closer. “I wouldn’t. I don’t know if you caught all the parts where I mentioned I’m in love with you.”

Jemma‘s smile is shy. “I love you too.”

Fitz breathes a sigh of relief. “Cool. Me too.”

Jemma takes a step forward so that there’s only a few inches between their bodies. “Yeah, you mentioned that.” 

“Right.” Fitz pauses. She’s looking at him with so much fondness that he can’t believe he didn’t see it earlier. “Can we kiss yet or do we need special sex flowers for that?”

Jemma rolls her eyes and grabs his shirt, pulling him in so that she can fit her lips to his.

In all the times Fitz has imagined his first kiss with Jemma Simmons (and he had imagined it a lot) he never imagined it being quite like this. He always thought it would be either shy and slow or hard and desperate. Instead, it’s the two of them smiling and laughing against each others’ mouths, easy and playful as if they’ve done this hundreds of times. Maybe it’s because on paper, they have.

Fitz’s hands wrap around her waist and sprawl across her back. He pulls her into his body and steps back, guiding them further into his room and towards his bed.

Jemma’s hands roam across his shoulders before dragging down to his chest. She pushes him down onto his bed and climbs onto his lap. “I noticed you liked writing me on top.” She smiles down at him.

Fitz‘s hands slide up her hips, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of her shirt to brush against the smooth skin underneath. “I liked thinking of you as enthusiastic.”

Jemma grabs the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head. Fitz’s mouth opens in slack-jawed awe. “Jemma...what?”

Jemma grabs his hands and places them on her breasts. “I’m definitely very enthusiastic.” She rolls her hips into his.

Fitz reluctantly removes his hands from her breasts and slides them down to her waist. Jemma stills. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Perfect. I can’t believe this is happening. It’s just…” Fitz swallows hard. “I’ve never done this before,” he admits.

“Me neither.” Jemma’s smile quickly turns into a look of mild concern. “What is that face? Why are you making that face?”

“I’m just- Jemma. You wrote  _ so much _ porn.”

Jemma flushes. “Fitz-“

“No, but like. A  _ lot _ of porn.”

“I get it.”

“Like. If they sold porn at Costco, that’s how much -“

Jemma groans. “That’s enough,” she huffs as she bends down to muffle his words with a kiss. 

Fitz participates enthusiastically, but like a dog with a bone, continues as soon as she pauses to take a breath. “I thought you were having loads of intercourse.”

Jemma smiles sheepishly. “Nope. I just had a very detailed imagination and an exceedingly handsome muse.”

“Well, I hope I live up to your fantasies,” Fitz jokes.

Jemma shows no trace with humor when she assures him, “It’s already better.”

“Yeah?” Fitz asks skeptically.

“Of course.” Jemma smiles fondly down at him, her fingertips trailing softly along his jawline. “This is real.”


End file.
